TMI? Perhaps...

Billy Idol  Greatest Hits







I really miss the arcade. They’ve all but gone from here, surpassed by Xboxes and other systems, no doubt. I’ve consider purchasing a system as a substitute, but it’s just not the same. I liked shooting games (no one’s surprised there): Lethal Enforcer and Area 51 in particular.


Though I usually find gendered items distasteful, there was something about the pink plastic Lethal Enforcer gun that I really liked. I liked too that I could beat the game for a dollar (this was back in the day when four lives only cost a quarter.) And I REALLY liked that given my height, stature and hair, most people seeing me at first glance thought I was about 14, so when these cocky young men would join in, thinking they could hit on and impress the little girl, they got a rude shock to find that the ‘little girl’ who’s name was always number one on the leader board was an …ahem, older woman.

Area 51 was shooting aliens and glass. So that could be done with good conscious. If you shot the right stuff to get the bonus screens, you got to shoot up the urinals in the men’s room. I greatly enjoyed this too. (And if you’re thinking this sounds frighteningly like a 12 year old male, sadly you are not the first to consider this, or vocalize it to me.  I know it's disturbing, and I don't want think about it.)

I know this is politically incorrect, and probably TMI, but I liked that in Lethal Enforcer when you shot the ‘bad guys’ not only was there a splat of red, but the sound effects when “thuwp-ahhhh”. It was very satisfying.

For many years of grad school, every other day (or more) I was at the arcade. We’d come home after a day and say, “I need to shoot things.”  The nice old couple who ran the arcade knew us by name, like the ladies at the Chinese food take out restaurant.

Grad school in fact is an exercise in perseverance and stress management, it has nothing to do with education. You are told by the alleged experts of your field that you are a worthless, no nothing idiot. At the same time, you are expected to do their job (teaching) but with three times the work load, no benefits and 1/18 of their salary. They will then tell you, you are taking too long to finish the bench marks, set by them. This is understandable, they say, because you are an idiot, but not excusable. However, when you reach the bench mark, they will then tell you that it’s impossible for you to have reached it so quickly, because, yes, you are an idiot, so you can’t possible pass.

Shooting things at the arcade was preferable to shooting faculty at the university. On the other hand, when that recent case came up in, Alabama was it? I understood perfectly. I bet she didn’t have an arcade there.

Today (you will read this tomorrow, so, yesterday) was one of those days. I really want to shoot things, hence the Billy Idol.  (Who was really great in the Wedding Singer, the movie, what a ridiculous idea to make it a stage show, but this is whole 'nother digression.)

 I really miss the arcade. I really miss that pink plastic gun.





Last night the damncat (Jack for those acquainted) was hungry. Two am til 5 am, he poked, prodded, licked, bit, tugged (yes, both paws around my arm and pulled). He meowed, he sniffed, he humphed in my ear… And if he wasn’t at me, he was at the plastic trash can which he likes to lick because he knows he shouldn’t and it’s annoying and goes bang bang when it rocks. I was too tired to move… I slept with the water spritzer in hand. No need for concern (for him) it was 4 hours, he’s a big cat, he wasn’t going to starve. There was food when I went to bed.

It should’ve been a sign. I drove to work a different way (Glastonbury) foolishly, I was running late and thought this would give me highway to drive, aside from a detour for a bagel… The lady cop was very nice when she pulled me over. No, not speeding, as you would expect.  Apparently my registration has been expired for a year and the bizzillion state troopers I’ve passed daily during this time hadn’t noticed either. She was nice enough not to tow the car but drive off in the other direction and tell me which way she was going.


So…I’m thinking DMV. Yes, those who know me, know that the only thing that creates more panic and anxiety in me than “DMV” is “Dentist” and maybe ticks. So, I wasn’t even upset about the 117$ ticket in hand because I knew I had to go to the DMV. ASAP.

My last LEO exchange and trip to the DMV was for an inspection. I got stopped for speeding.  And this time I was speeding, but he couldn't prove that. My car insurance was in that weird renewal month. It was up to date, I had the new card, but I was still carrying around the old card as there was still a few days in the month.  The cop, I think annoyed because he couldn't pull off a speeding ticket, gave me an inspection summons to prove the insurance.

So, rolling my eyes, I brought the new insurance card to DMV.  I knew this would be, I wasn't even hyperventiliating that trip. It took me five hours (Whethersfield).  Five hours to show the right person a 3 X 5 peice of paper...


I get to work, and log online to see what and where. Well, for an expired registration you have to call them. An hour and half on hold later, the nice lady tells me all I need is paper work and money and all will be fine. Okay. I have paper work. I can get money. Willimantic is open, I’m only 10 miles away if that, … I can do this….


DMV only had 1 person ahead of me. Amazing. I didn't even need to open the book. It only took two minutes and near hysteria for me to explain hub has had no other wife, please check the record of co-ownership and outstanding taxes again. Well, the clerk decides, that the person whose wife is named Joanne is not us, but we DO have an outstanding tax bill. Huh? In Manchester… I need to go to Manchester to fix it.


The last time we lived in Manchester is 1998… I go to Manchester… Yes, they have the right name, right address, worse the right obscure car (a 1988 blue Isuzu I-Marc how many of those could’ve been around?) and back taxes form 1997. How is this possible I ask? We’ve registered at least 8 cars that I can remember since then. We moved out of state and returned all the plates AND moved back INTO state and got new driver’s license since then!

Nobody knows. I pay them $200 to clear the account and drive back to Willimantic.


Ten minutes and another 100 dollars later, I have a bright new shiny yellow sticker and am good for a year. Cool. Now I can go back to work and maybe do what was on the do list for yesterday, since other stuff came up then... (We did buy a family of 6...they arrive at the end of the week: manniquins.)

Back to work… the air conditioner has broke, again. The meeting that was supposed to be an hour later, has moved, again, it’s now an hour earlier, oh guess what? That’s now! Cherry coke and cheese popcorn is not bad for lunch, better than the bagel I inhaled while the cop wrote the ticket.  And yesterday's do list, well, there's always tomorrow... again.


Okay, that’s okay I think, maybe I’ll get to leave on time?

HA.

The meeting – finance meeting – was 3 hours. I didn’t leave at 5, I left at 7….


I really miss the arcade. I really miss that pink plastic gun. "Thwump-ahh"... sigh.